Welcome Home
by TheJettSet1654
Summary: Lyra Mania is a long forgotten fable whose fairy tale, unlike many others, did not have a happy ending. After a long period of exile, she returns to Fabletown to forget her past and see old friends. However, she becomes involved in a string of murders, and Sheriff Bigby Wolf is determined to solve them. Rated M for coarse language, suggestive themes, and violence/gore.
1. Lyra's Story

**Hey everyone – this is my TWAU Fanfiction, meticulously crafted for your enjoyment. Just to let you all know, this contains a couple of OC's, most importantly Lyra Mania. The other OC is her ex-husband, Jack (and not the Beanstock Boy). **

**Also, this Fanfiction will contain coarse language, gore, sexual themes, and other mature themes, e.g. mental illnesses. If you are uncomfortable with such content, I suggest you leave now. **

**This is going to be a long-ass Fanfiction, so if you're looking for something short and sweet, this isn't going to be it. I should also mention that I will be "shipping" a couple of characters with Lyra – mostly Gren, with other encounters thrown into the mix.**

**That's all I need to mention. Enjoy! Please, please review my Fanfiction – I appreciate any feedback I can get! Criticism is not only welcome, it's encouraged! Find something wrong and tell me about it!**

_Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, their lived a young and beautiful maiden named Lyra Mania. She was the object of everyone's adoration; all of the men loved her and all of the women wanted to become her. The ground she strolled upon was worshipped. Tales of not only her beauty but her intelligence and good humor spread throughout the land._

_Whenever she stepped foot outside, the air instantly brightened and put the entire town into a good mood; it was almost as if Lyra radiated feelings of comfort and goodwill. Her parents were very proud of their daughter, and treated her with respect. Everyone was her friend, and was more than happy to help those in need. Lyra was perfect – but this was not to last._

_On the other side of the land, there lived a horrid and malevolent fairy named Portia. With dark blue skin, snow white hair, and a prominent, knobby nose, she was exiled from the other fairies because of her ugliness. Envious and arrogant, she hated anyone who was superior to her, and often sought ways to eliminate them. "One less enemy to worry about," she often said. So when tales of Lyra reached her ears, she was mad with jealousy, and immediately began to contrive a plan._

_"This child shall suffer!" She cried aloud. Portia, knowing that sooner was always better, decided to visit the castle tomorrow and put an end to Lyra's life._

_Using a glamour to disguise her disgusting features, she arrived at the palace about noon. She quickly caught sight of Lyra. The girl really was beautiful; bright red hair fell to her shoulders in perfect waves, emerald green eyes sparkled in their sockets, and a face that was amazingly proportioned. She was thin, but not too thin, and was toned. Her legs were very long and very beautiful. As height went, Portia guessed her to be about 5'7". _

_"She is absolutely lovely," Portia thought to herself, nausea roiling in her stomach, "and I don't think killing her will be enough. She must suffer for an eternity!"_

_Near the border of the town lived a wizard, whom Portia visited. _

_"Do you know of Lyra Mania?" Portia asked._

_"Yes. Everybody does." The wizard replied._

_"I need your help. I wish to destroy her mind."_

_"Why?" the wizard inquired. "She has done nothing to you."_

_"I will pay you a very large sum of money – fifty thousand coins – to give her brain an incurable disease. A disease that will cause shifting moods that will give her nothing but pain. I wish to make her go mad with euphoria, only to be struck down by great sadness the very next day!"_

_The wizard thought of the risk. Fifty thousand coins could get him a new house on an island somewhere, and he could put all of this behind him. However, he had met Lyra before, and took a liking to the young girl. This woman wished a lovely woman harm, and that went against many of his personal morals. But still…fifty thousand coins! Soon, he chose._

_"It is done. I will take your offer."_

_Portia watched as the wizard brought out different chemicals and stirred them in a pot. After fifteen minutes, the mixture was complete, and he poured it into a bottle._

_"Give this to her in a drink. The potion will work instantaneously."_

_Portia paid him and left._

_She returned to the palace at dinnertime, and devised a plan to sneak the potion into Lyra's drink. Using a different glamour to disguise herself as a cook, she snuck in to the kitchen._

_Portia was given the task to cook Lyra's food, and she made a miniature roast chicken with a side of potatoes and vegetables. According to another cook, Lyra's favorite food was the potato. To drink, the cooks were all ordered to give out rare wine, and when Portia poured the glass she quickly and quietly added in the potion. The food was carried out to the guests, and Portia furtively watched as Lyra ate and drank. _

_Within ten minutes of consuming the beverage, Lyra appeared bothered. Soon, tears began streaming down her face. The Queen and King became concerned._

_"Lyra, my dear, what is the matter?" the King asked._

_"Oh Father, I don't know. I suddenly feel very sad and I'm unsure as to why." She replied._

_As soon as she spoke, her father let out a cry of horror. Portia watched the spectacle with an eagerness she hadn't felt in years. Two strands of hair that framed Lyra's face began to change color, from red to a dark blue. Her eyes changed from their original green to a dull gray. Shocked and embarrassed, Lyra stood up and quickly fled._

_Portia cackled with glee and slipped out of the castle unseen._

_Weeks passed, and Lyra's mood became unstable, often changing from happiness to sadness and vice versa within three days. Periods of elation and goodwill mingled with times of depression and crying. Despite their best efforts, her parents soon gave up on the child and eventually tired of attempting to care for her._

_"She cannot stay here anymore. She must leave, for all she is doing is bringing shame upon our family." The King spoke to the Queen. The Queen agreed._

_Lyra was banished from the kingdom the next day and left to her own means. Portia was never caught and convicted of her crime, and to this day happily resides in her home. The wizard moved away and was never heard from again._

_To this day, no one knows where Lyra resides. Rumor says that she found a husband who was willing to put up with her sickness. _


	2. Fish and an Incident

**Hey everyone! **

**I encourage you all to criticize this story. Of course, I accept praise, but in order to become a better writer, I need to know my weak points. How are my characters? Is my grammar up to par? Should I expand my vocabulary? Please let me know!**

**Anyway, this isn't my first Fanfiction, and it's not the first to be published online, but it's the only serious one I've written (and the only one people would want to read. Something tells me Lincoln/Darwin isn't a popular ship). Anyway, hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

It had been a long time since she'd seen Fabletown.

She did not forget about its existence; rather, she elected to ignore it. Sure, she had friends who lived there, but they had always initiated the visits by coming to see her, not the other way around. Everybody else could, well, fuck off. Her companions knew how much she despised all the other Fables, with few exceptions. One of these allowances, for instance, was Grendel; they shared similar feelings about the individuals they had to deal with almost every day. He was somebody she had continuously gotten along with. On occasion, they even slept together, a privilege she reserved for only a small selection of individuals to experience. What made Gren different from most other people was his acceptance of her disorder (unlike her fucking asshole ex-husband Jack…)

Why had she come back? Her mind presented no response to this question. She was damn near perplexed by her actions. To come back and see all of the old Fables, most of them not knowing who the hell she was, or the story she originated from, and how much pain they caused every single day – it still offended her. Not to mention almost no Mundies knew her original story, which, to her, was bullshit. How can such a tragic tale be overlooked so easily?

As she braked at a stoplight, she realized that her stereo was turned down. _I thought it was quiet._ Reaching out, she turned up the volume. "Fish" by one of her favorite groups, Throwing Muses, had just started.

_"I have a fish nailed to a cross on my apartment wall,_

_It sings to me with glassy eyes_

_And quotes from Kafka,_

_It sings to me."_

Strangely enough, this song meant a lot to her. While she certainly never spent time in a dead man's apartment with "Fish Jesus", and she could never recall seeing a frozen fish in her living room…there was something about this tune that hit her in the head, hard.

The light turned green and she pressed on the accelerator, singing along with the melody as the car gained speed and the thought faded. She contemplated which building to visit initially – The Trip Trap, or The Lucky Pawn. At the bar, she was sure to see Gren and Holly, and she had missed both dearly. Gren would be pleased to see her, and she would be belated to see him. Jersey apparently worked at the pawn shop, and he was someone she hadn't chatted with for a long time. The Devil had aided her in a few rough patches in the past, and as an outcome, they were rather good friends.

After a moment's decision, she decided to go to the Trap. Hell, maybe consuming one or two beers would be decent for her. She attempted to stay away from alcohol, but as of late, she hadn't been taking her meds, so she figured it would be safe to have a drink or two. And meeting Gren again…her heart nearly leaped out of her chest with joy. She didn't love him, this she was confident of, but they had always been close; plus, he was a great lay, and it had been decades since she had been intimate with someone. _Good thing I don't feel the itch often. That was probably due to the pills, though. Glad I'm off those._

She sighted the place, pulled up to the curb, turned off her car, and strolled inside.

* * *

Bigby had been dozing in his chair for two hours when the doorbell rang. Muttering to himself how people always interrupt his sleep, he straightened his tie and opened the door. A familiar face appeared - it was Snow.

"We have a problem." She remarked, a look of worry upon her face. He was saddened by this. Bigby had always hated seeing Snow upset – his feelings for her the cause. _One of these days…_

"What is it?"

"Follow me," she said, turning away from him, "we can't talk about it here."

He followed her, his gaze unknowingly drifting to her swaying hips. Catching himself, he quickly snapped back into focus, rooting his eyes to the back of her skull. Better to be caught staring at her hair than her ass. Feelings of deja-vu set in; with Snow's face twisted in fear, disgust, and concern, his mind kept flashing back to Faith. _Please, not this shit again._

Snow pressed the down button on the elevator and stood, oscillating back and forth. She toyed with her hands and kept glancing around, giving her the appearance of a paranoid schizophrenic in the midst of a psychotic episode. A deep, slow feeling of anxiety began to set in. Bigby could smell her worry, and it was almost too much to bear. _I have to say something._

"Hey, Snow, you okay?" Bigby inquired with a concerned tone in his voice.

"No," she responded, not even turning to look at him, "we can't walk about it here, though. This is an emergency, and I can't have people overhearing."

"Okay. It's just…this reminds me of the 'Faith' incident."

She didn't reply to that. Instead, she pressed a finger to her lips in the universal "be quiet" symbol.

The elevator doors opened, and both treaded in. They patiently waited as the elevator descended, not bothering to look at each other. Bigby resisted the temptation to steal glances at Snow. Instead, he recalled an image of her in his mind; all of the time spent memorizing every minute detail of her face and body had paid off. Now, he held a clear and calm picture of her in his vision. _She's so beautiful…_

He was shaken out of his reverie as the bell rang, signaling that they had reached the ground floor. Her musk was overpowering, but he resisted the impulse to light a cigarette. _Better keep my nose alert for whatever's coming._

Soon, the doors reopened, and they walked out into the lobby. Grimble, as usual, slept peacefully, unaware of the passing Fables. As they approached the front doors, Bigby suddenly felt his uneasiness climbing to new heights. A sense of foreboding seemed to come out of thin air and into his brain, slowly taking over any other thought. _Something horrible is out there, I just know it_.

He had not known what to expect when he left the apartment building and out into the front yard, but the sight that greeted him was nothing he could have imagined – and he possessed the capacity to imagine a great deal of things. Bigby was centuries old, and had seen a hell of a lot in those hundreds of years; hell, he was the Big Bad Wolf. He had committed atrocities no mortal man could ever accomplish.

But no shocking event could have prepared him for this.

* * *

**Again, I encourage criticism. Find something wrong with this chapter. Tell me. **

**But then again, praise is nice once in a while, so if you have something good to say, by all means, say it!**

**Hope you have enjoyed the story so far! **


	3. Sex and the Ripper

**Here's chapter 3 for everyone. Enjoy! Please review – I want feedback! Are my characters well written? Any typos? Is the story realistic? Let me know!**

* * *

Upon entering the Trip Trap, she knew that she had made the correct choice.

Holly, upon noticing her, delicately gasped and uttered her name. "_Lyra._"

Smiling, she made her way to the seat next to Gren, who had a large grin on his face. His appearance had not changed in the past few decades; dark blue hair, a scar underneath his right eye, and gold chains around his neck. One of his eyes had returned to its natural state: completely white. _His glamour must be fading._ A smile spread across her face as well, and she thought, _It's good to be back among friends_.

He studied her for a few moments. Her hair, which had once reached the middle of her back, was cut to the middle of her neck. Instead of being curly, it was stick straight. A nice change – the new style suited her well. Her gray eyes were as beautiful as ever; Gren often commented on how lovely he thought they were. Lyra wore dark jeans, almost black, a Dead Kennedys shirt and a black blazer. Combat boots were her shoe of choice, not the Chuck Taylors he had become accustomed to seeing her wear. Still, even with these minor changes, she was gorgeous – at least, he (along with most of the male population in New York) had always thought so. The difference between him and all of her other admirers was that once they discovered her disorder they tended to avoid her as if she was some cursed object – a talisman not meant to be touched, but to be studied from a distance. He studied her for a few moments more, taking in her beauty, and then spoke: "It's fan-fucking-tastic to have you back."

"Hello to you, too." Lyra replied.

Holly quickly grabbed a Midas Gold and dug underneath the counter for a lime. Unlike what she told Sheriff Wolf once in a confrontation, Holly actually had limes; she just reserved them for special customers. Sliding the drink across the bar to Lyra, Holly leaned forward and asked, "Where in the fuck have you been?"

"Oh, you know, places."

Holly laughed. "You always were a sarcastic little shit. Seriously, though, you've been gone for _years_. We haven't seen you for a long time. Gren was starting to get worried!" her hand gestured to the male, and a look of mortification crossed his mien.

"Was not." Gren muttered, and in response Lyra slid an arm around his shoulder and gave him a side hug. He returned the gesture. "Okay…maybe I was a little worried, but I know she can take care of herself. She's a grown-ass woman."

Lyra turned to Holly and answered, "Let's just say that I've been in self-imposed exile. I struck an incredibly rocky patch a few decades ago – you both know that – but after I found my way out of that mess I went into hiding. At least, I would call it hiding."

Gren downed a shot and said, "Jack. That fucking fucker. I could kill him. I _will_ kill him."

"Gren, you have more important things to worry about," Lyra said, "although I appreciate your chivalrous behavior, Jack's not worth the effort or the time."

He cocked an eyebrow. "How is killing someone chivalrous?"

"You're doing it for a lady's honor."

"Ah."

Holly chuckled and said, "If only a man would kill for me."

"You'll find someone someday." Lyra suggested. "Trust me."

"No man wants a troll. Every time a guy catches a glimpse of my true form, he runs out the door like a fuckin' coward. The sad thing is, most of them promise that they're ready. 'Oh, Holly, darling, let me see the real you!' Lying assholes."

Lyra winked and said, "There _is_ a niche market out there for hot troll babes. You might have more luck looking for someone in that circle."

Gren, who had been taking a sip that time, choked on the alcohol for a split second before saying, "She's got a point, Holly, although I personally wouldn't go hunting there myself. A lot of sick fucking whackos in those parts. You can meet a nice guy, next thing you know, some creep with his dick hangin' out of his pants will be grinding against ya'. And you know how I feel about guys treating my friends like shit."

Lyra polished off her Midas Gold, sucked on the lime, and turned to her male companion. He gazed back, waiting for her to talk.

"Speaking of dick…it's been a long time." Lyra said to Gren, suggestively raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah? That's a shame. I can sure as hell help with that if you want. A fine woman like you shouldn't go without pleasure." He replied, his arm sliding down her back to what bit of her bottom he could grab. Lyra responded by removing her arm from his shoulder, placing it on his thigh, and rubbing the inner part. He could feel his pants tightening.

Holly turned away and said, "Jesus, you two, get a room."

"I don't have a place yet. Looks like we'll need to go to yours." Lyra whispered into his ear.

"Fuck yes. C'mon, let's go."

Holly watched the two disappear with a smile on her face. Gren always functioned somewhat better with her around. She cleared the glasses from the bar. _They won't be back anytime soon._

* * *

_Oh my god_.

Bigby's mind spoke only these words as he gazed upon the gruesome sight.

A body lay prostrate on the ground. Even though he could not see her face, Bigby knew he probably didn't want to. Already, horrific mutilation was visible. Her back had been cut open from the neck to the buttocks, and the muscle cut through to the spine. Parts of vertebrae were missing. The woman's legs, which must have been lovely when she was still alive, were almost unrecognizable as en extremity, for her calves had been severed off. Her toes had been sawed off, and since the wounds were older than most of the others, Bigby guessed they had been removed when she was still alive.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Snow." He said.

She didn't look at the body. Instead, she looked straight into his eyes, never moving. "I know."

He put a hand out and inhaled deeply. Swiftly, he rolled the corpse over, and nearly threw up.

Her stomach had been torn open, several organs removed, others mutilated. Her arms had been opened and several veins removed. The denim skirt she wore had been torn; Bigby took one quick glance at her genitalia and knew instantly that not only had the killer removed the clitoris, he had also taken the uterus as well. Finally, he examined her face.

No eyes looked out at him. They could have been beautiful, but he would never know because she didn't have them anymore. Her nose had been removed, the cartilage unevenly severed, leaving her with the appearance of a Voldemort wannabe. A Chelsea Smile had been cut into her flesh, leaving a singularly disgusting "grin" on her features.

"This is some shit straight out of fucking 1800's Whitechapel, Snow. Jack the Ripper could have done this shit!"

"Except Jack's been dead for a long time now and compared to this crime scene, his acts almost appear juvenile." She replied matter-of-factly.

"And why on our doorstep? Why a Faith repeat? I don't want to deal with this shit again!" Bigby growled. It had been a little over twenty years since that incident, and he was growing used to the normality everyday life provided. Seeing a Fable killed in such a horrific manner had struck a nerve deep inside of him, and the fact he had cared about her made the feeling worse. Things in Fabletown were just beginning to return to normal. Now this? What revolting bastard was going around Fabletown killing people in such wicked ways?

Snow's hand on his shoulder shook him out of his thoughts. "I've seen her face before. If we go back to the Business Office, I could find her."

"We can't spend all night looking through books, Snow. I've never seen her, and I used to know everybody. How the hell are we going to locate her?"

"We need to do research."

"So it _is_ a Faith repeat. Goddamnit, Sn-"

"_Bigby,_" she interrupted, "Listen. The faster we get this resolved, the better. First, we must contact Dr. Swineheart and let him analyze her body. Next, we go to the Office and begin to look through books. I know of the ones we need, and Bufkin can find them quickly."

To this, Bigby had no reply. Snow was right. They called Swinheart, told him the news, and he said he would be by to pick the body up as soon as possible. Once that was taken care of, they went to the Business Office, preparing for a night of research and unhappiness.

* * *

Three hours and four rounds later, Lyra stood with shaking legs in front of the small mirror in Gren's apartment. Her head still swam in feel-good chemicals; the conversations had been good, but the sex was even better, each round better than the rest. _Yet another perk of being a Fable – the men recover quickly and last longer._

She could see him lying in the bed behind her, sitting upright with a smile on his face. It was obvious he was checking out her body, admiring her toned and muscular physique. Years of training had allowed her to acquire her optimal level of fitness. Her strength, endurance, and flexibility were borderline superhuman – something she had always dreamed of, but never knew was achievable.

Using a tissue, she wiped the remnants of mascara from underneath her eye. Tears of pleasure had caused her makeup to run. While that was a downside for her – considering mascara has a tendency to burn when it comes in contact with the eyeball – it was brag worthy for Gren.

"Still can't believe you're back," Gren said, breaking the silence, "It seems like a dream. And if it is, it's a fucking great one."

"I guess I got tired of being alone." Lyra replied.

"Thought you said you were tired of all the assholes. Yeah, you did! You're exact words were, 'Gren, I'm so sick and fucking tired of these goddamn annoying ass imps. Jack and I are leaving."

"I know I said that, but look where I ended up - Hell. And you know that I didn't return because I was yearning to see all of the assholes. I wanted to reconcile with my friends. Plus, I believe I've finally got Jack off my scent. It's time to forget me past and start again."

Gren slid out from between the comforter and sheets, stepping onto the floor. He sauntered up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close, his face buried in her hair. "Are you sure you're safe from that douchebag? Because I can arrange some mean motherfuckers to track him down and beat the shit out of him, and you know I'll protect you."

Lyra turned around so she was facing him and spoke, "I appreciate your offer, wholly and truly. But if you keep this 'romantic' act up people are going to get the wrong idea about you."

"And what idea would that be?" he asked, sounding confused.

"That you have a heart and soul."

"I have a heart. It's fuckin' tiny, but it's there. Soul? Not a goddamn chance. And there's nothing wrong with being this way with a close friend. I don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks. You know that."

"I'm just stating a fact."

"Look, Lyra…I'm still a gigantic dick. I'm only kind to a select few people. Hell, few might even be too fuckin' generous – but just because there's only a couple of you doesn't mean I'm going to treat you like shit. My personality, as shitty as it is, won't allow for me to be that much of a bastard."

"Mmm. Lovely point," she said, and then added, "And speaking of dick…" Using her free hand to grasp his already hardening member, she stood on tiptoes and kissed him softly on the lips. A low growl emanated from his throat, and he swept her off of her feet.

She felt a rush of happiness - something she hadn't felt for a long time - as she was carried back to bed. _It's good to be back among friends._

* * *

**Woah! Long chapter! At least, long compared to most of the others I'm going to do. I was originally going to make you all wait another chapter to see what Bigby confronted, but I decided I wanted a break between Lyra's situation and Bigby's. **

**Hope you all enjoyed it! It's been a stressful night. I have my two hardest finals tomorrow – Economics and Chemistry – so I've been juggling studying and writing this chapter. Economics is so ****_boring_**** though…**

**Anyway, see you all soon! And again, criticism/praise is appreciated and encouraged!**


	4. Fleas and Red Right Hands

**Been a few days since I've posted! I was at my dad's for the weekend and had a friend stay the night Monday, so I've been busy. Plus, to be honest, I've been having difficulties writing the Business Office scene. But here it is in all of its glory!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Bufkin, I need your help." The princess said, quickly shuffling towards a desk.

"Yes, Miss Snow?"

"I need three books: The Comprehensive Book of Fables, the Obscure Fairy Tales Manual, and The Picture Book of Fairy Tale Creatures."

The sound of flapping wings faded in the distance as she turned to face Bigby. Her face still had not changed from its concerned countenance, and he could tell that her recognition of the woman's face bothered her.

"I'm upset that I can't recall her name." Snow said, reading his mind.

"I don't think I've ever seen her." He replied.

"She wasn't a popular tale, of that I'm certain. I mean, it takes a lot to kill us, and while she was subjected to many tortures of various types…" her voice trailed off, uncertain on how to finish the sentence.

"I know what you mean." Bigby replied.

Bufkin returned, dropping the books on the desk. "Anything else I can help with?"

Snow was going to speak, but Bigby cut her off. "Stay close."

He picked up the picture book and began to flip through. The woman's face was quite lovely – looking at her was like staring at the face of Aphrodite, even with all of the gruesome wounds inflicted on her – and because of this he thought that the search would be fast. Such beauty could not go undetected. However, his search was fruitless, and he could not find her. _Maybe she isn't looking toward me? But that would be ridiculous – the whole point of this book is to show what they look like._

"Find anything?" Snow asked.

"Not yet. If she's in here, her face isn't turned towards the camera."

"Well, then, look for a profile or her hair – something, anything."

Bigby looked through the book a second time, examining every miniscule detail. Still nothing. He sighed. It was going to be a _long_ night.

Snow was about to ask him what he found, but seeing the look of frustration upon Bigby''s face, she knew the answer to her question. Making a discontented noise in her throat, she picked up the Obscure Manual and began to paw through it. She thought to herself, _I know I've seen this girl before. Why can't I remember her name?_

Suddenly, there she was. It was only a side view, but it was definitely her. Snow began to read out loud, capturing Bigby and Bufkin's attention.

"ONCE upon a time the King of High-Hill being bitten by a flea caught him by a wonderful feat of dexterity; and seeing how handsome and stately he was he had not the conscience to sentence him to death. So he put him into a bottle, and feeding him every day himself the little animal grew at such a rate that at the end of seven months it was necessary to shift his quarters, for he was grown bigger than a sheep. The King then had him flayed and his skin dressed. Then he issued a proclamation that whoever could tell what this skin was should marry the Princess.

As soon as this decree was made known the people flocked in crowds from all the ends of the world to try their luck. One said that it belonged to an ape, another to a lynx, a third to a crocodile, and in short some gave it to one animal and some to another; but they were all a hundred miles from the truth, and not one hit the nail on the head. At last there came to this trial an ogre who was the most ugly being in the world, the very sight of whom would make the boldest man tremble and quake with fear. But no sooner had he come and turned the skin round and smelt it than he instantly guessed the truth, saying, "This skin belongs to the king of fleas."

Now the King saw that the ogre had hit the mark; and not to break his word he ordered his daughter Porziella to be called. Porziella had a face like milk and roses, and was such a miracle of beauty that you would never be tired of looking at her. And the King said to her, "My daughter, you know who I am. I cannot go back from my promise whether a king or a beggar. My word is given, I must keep it though my heart should break. Who would ever have imagined that this prize would have fallen to an ogre! But it never does to judge hastily. Have patience then and do not oppose your father; for my heart tells me that you will be happy, for rich treasures are often found inside a rough earthen jar."

She stopped reading, a sad look coming onto her face.

"It's her," Snow whispered, "The woman is Porziella. I remember now."

* * *

It was late, and Lyra decided that she was just going to spend the night with Gren. _Why not. It's been a long time_. Besides, he didn't care. In fact, he was almost overcome with joy at the idea.

They watched Pulp Fiction, ate pizza, and played Gin Rummy. Eventually, she felt the need growing inside of her again, and Gren satisfied her once more that night before they both fell asleep, exhausted from an entire day's worth of passions.

As she drifted to sleep beside her friend, she thought, _I made the right choice_.

* * *

Snow was flipping through the Comprehensive book when she found Porziella's entry. "Got it!" she cried, "and here's what it says:

"Porziella was the daughter of the King of High-Hill. One day, the King was bitten by a flea, and instead of killing the insect, he gave the animal a little blood each day until it had grown larger than a sheep. He flayed it, and proclaimed that whoever could identify the skin would marry the princess.

"Many men came, and none of their answers were close. Suddenly, an ogre came, and he almost instantaneously claimed that it was the skin of a flea. The King, a man of his word, forced Porziella to be with the ogre against her protests." At this, Snow paused, feeling great sympathy for the poor girl.

"Porziella was dragged to the ogre's home, and she ate peas and parched beans. The ogre went out for a hunt and returned with…human meat. She was disgusted, and the ogre said, 'Ha! this is throwing sweetmeats before swine; never mind, however, only have patience till tomorrow morning, for I have been invited to a wild boar hunt and will bring you home a couple of boars, and we'll make a grand feast with our kinsfolk and celebrate the wedding.' and left.

"An old woman, very hungry, passed by the window, where she saw Porziella crying. When she asked for food, Porziella replied that all she had was human flesh and that her life is miserable. The old woman then said that she had several sons who could come and kill the ogre and rescue the Princess.

The men and the ogre had a great battle, but in the end, the men won, and Porziella was returned to the King. Not many days after her return, she was married to a handsome prince, and lived happily ever after."

A long, melancholy silence passed between them before anything was said.

"Who's her husband?" Bigby asked, shaking his head. It was Faith all over again. _Hopefully this husband isn't suicidal, too._

"It doesn't say for some strange reason. And who knows? Some Fables broke up when we relocated. Plus, we don't know what job she had, if she had one at all. The most we can do is ask around and see who knows who." Snow replied, with a touch of frustration in her voice. Asking around sometimes meant going into the seedy underbelly of Fabletown. Even then, there was no guarantee that anyone knew Porziella.

More silence passed, until a voice in the shadows spoke. "I know who her husband is."

Hearing these words, Bigby immediately sent a sharp look in the direction the voice came. He knew who it was as soon as it spoke, but how the hell didn't he sense or smell his presence?

Bluebeard came into view.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Bigby probed.

"Mind your own business, _Sheriff_," Bluebeard returned, "but the point is, I can help."

"And why the fuck would you want to?"

"I knew Porziella. She was a friend of mine. Now, are you going to continue asking me pointless questions, or shall we actually move forward?"

Snow butted in with, "Stop fighting you two. Bluebeard, I really appreciate your help. Now, who's her husband?"

Bluebeard cleared his throat. "His last name is Pajari. It means "boyar", which is a Russian noble. Prince Pajari."

"Do you know what job Porziella had?"

"She tended to do a lot of odd jobs, and I know she occasionally did errands for Fables like Mary and Jersey, but she was never directly involved in any crimes. I believe she was a cashier at some store, but you would have more luck checking with Jersey. They were close friends."

"Where did they live?"

"Near Prince Lawrence, actually. I don't know the exact address, but it shouldn't be too hard to find."

While Snow drilled Bluebeard with questions, Bigby took the gained information and went to the Magic Mirror. Maybe the mirror could help with their investigation. But goddamnit…he had to rhyme.

"Um…Please, Mirror, if you can…tell me all about a man?"

The face appeared and began to speak. "A worthy effort on your part, but you need to perfect the art."

"Show me Prince Pajari, and don't tell me to be artsy."

An image appeared on the screen. Bigby saw a very handsome man sitting in a shitty chair in a surprisingly nice room. _I don't think he knows._ The image faded and the face reappeared.

Bigby continued, "This man likes to think he's a rebel, please show me the Jersey Devil."

It showed the inside of the pawn shop, with Jersey behind the counter. _Figures._

"That's all." And with that, he returned to the pair behind him. "I know where the prince is. Shall we go find him?"

Snow, who had just finished questioning Bluebeard, agreed. They quickly left the office to go talk to the Prince, leaving Bluebeard alone.

* * *

Bluebeard sat behind Crane's desk, contemplating not only the case, but his past. It's true that he decapitated his brides, but that's not something he is currently involved in. Sure, he took the occasional stroll down the bad path, getting involved in some gruesome shit, but those days are over. At least, for now. He's certainly better than Wolf, and deserves more trust. _I know how to get answers. The Sheriff doesn't._

Why the fuck does he treat his prisoners well? His interrogation of Tweedle Dee years before in Faith's case had been going well – he had been getting answers – and then the Sheriff shows up and takes over. Not only that, he is _nice_ to the motherfucker. _I can handle the situation by myself. I don't need someone to guide me, for fuck's sake._

He imagined a lovely scene where Bigby's body lay prostrate on the ground. The Sheriff was dead by Bluebeard's hands. The whole town was cheering, thanking him for the riddance, even Snow. Not that he ever liked Snow, but she was better Bigby.

Quickly, he pushed the image out of his mind. _It's best not to think of those things. Who knows? I might be tempted to actually commit the crime._ He chuckled at the thought.

There was a radio nearby. He turned it on. Felix Mendelssohn's "Violin Sonata in F Major" was playing. _Figures._ After thumbing through his personal collection, he settles on a Dead Kennedys CD, Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables, and pops it in. "Kill the Poor" began playing, and Bluebeard inwardly smiled at how _true_ the song was in his mind.

He walked through the alleyway, oblivious to his surroundings._ If anything happens, I can get out of it. _Whistling, he ran his fingertips over the scar on his hand. _The devil is never going to catch me. You know, they should really update my story. I'm still alive and well._

Suddenly, he hears something behind him, although he can't place the source of the noise. _It sounds like…metal scraping on something. _Turning around, he sees nothing.

"Satan, is that you?" he asks. Receiving no reply, he keeps going, wondering if he was hearing things. The noise begins again, and when he turns around, he finally sees the origin.

The scar on his hand cannot protect him from the swing of the axe as it gets buried in his shoulder. _It's not Satan_. Fully realizing the implications of his situation, he beings to scream.

As the murderer worked, it sang, a gorgeous voice coming from beneath the mask it wore.

_"Take a little walk to the edge of town and go across the tracks,_

_where the viaduct looms,_

_like a bird of doom as it shifts and cracks_

_where secrets lie in the border fires,_

_in the humming wires_

_hey man, you know you're never coming back_

_past the square, past the bridge, past the mills, past the stacks_

_on a gathering storm comes a tall handsome man_

_in a dusty black coat with_

_a red right hand."_


	5. Atrocity Exhibition and Ulysses

**Hello everyone! Here's chapter 5!**

**At the end, I have a few important things for people to read, so, if you want to read that before this chapter, head there. For now, here is the Fanfiction:**

* * *

Lyra was jolted awake at seven in the morning to her phone's ringtone.

_"This is the way, step inside…_

_This is the way, step inside…"_

Quickly, she snatched the phone off the bedside table and turned off her ringer. Gren hadn't even moved. _Figures. He was always a heavy sleeper._ She opened up her text messaging app and saw that it was from Holly.

"Hope you two had a great night. I know it's early but I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite and chat. It's been a long time."

She replied with, "Sure. Where?"

The phone vibrated, not making any other sound this time. "There's a cheap diner a few doors down from the Trip-Trap. Meet me there. Can't remember the name but the food is really good. Meet me at my bar and we can walk there together."

"Sounds good. Be there soon."

Silently, Lyra slid out of bed. She found a piece of paper and a pen on the floor next to an old desk. _It would be shitty to avoid leaving a note._

"Mahnin'. Got a text from Holly. Went out to have breakfast and chat. Don't worry (dance in the road and it explodes don't worry dance in the road). Stay safe and call me if you need anything – I've already entered my number into your contacts. And remember: you're my soul soldier." –Lyra.

_Managed to sneak two Throwing Muses references into a paragraph. I'm proud of myself._ And with that thought on her mind, she got dressed and left, locking the door behind her.

Even though it was barely seven-thirty by the time she left, it was already busy. _Of all the cities to put Fabletown in…_

She unlocked her car, got in, and started it. The radio loaded the songs from her USB, and soon, Foo Fighters was berating her eardrums. Lyra began to sing along as she pulled away from the curb and set out for the bar. In her head, she began to make a list of things she should do that day: _go to the bank, get an apartment, visit the Business Office and let Crane know of her return. _A scowl crossed her expression as she thought of the eventual encounter. Crane had never liked her – and this aversion had been around for many, many years, with no explanation on his part. All she could do was guess.

Holly was waiting for her outside of the bar. She parked along the curb, stepped out, and walked to the troll, feeling that today was the start of something new.

"Lyra!" Holly cried, giving Lyra a hug. "I meant to do that yesterday, but you and Gren were busy, so I decided to wait."

"You didn't have to, but thanks all the same. It's good to see you and finally get a chance to talk."

The pair reached the diner, sat down, and ordered drinks and food. Soon, they began to converse.

Lyra began, "So, how has life been since we last met?"

"Mostly shitty, with some okay parts thrown in."

"They still haven't made an effort to help…worse-off Fables?" Lyra inquired, cocking an eyebrow.

Holly sighed. "No. The Trap has more business now, but it's not exactly bustling. I just have a few more regulars, but it's not enough to bother Gren, if that tells you anything."

_He enjoys solitude. There must not be many people._ "Well, at least it's quiet."

"Most of the time," Holly said, "but there've been a few fights. Mostly when the Sheriff comes in and starts shit. You weren't around when that serial killer was killing some of us."

"No, I wasn't. What did Wolf do?"

"He came in asking about the Woodsman. Woody was there at the time, but in the bathroom, so I tried to lie my way out of the situation. The asshole wasn't buying it, and sat down next to Gren, wanting to talk. Of course, Gren didn't, and Bigby was saying how he wanted to be out of there as much as we wanted him out, and if we just helped him, he could leave. Then, Woody comes out, telling me the bathroom's out of paper towels and shit.

"Well, the Sheriff went over and sat down next to him, and the two were talking about Red Riding Hood's story – or, well, more like the Woodsman was telling him the real reason he was at Hood's house that day. Eventually, Gren gets tired of the shit, and starts yelling. He calls Bigby a lap dog, and asks why when Lily went missing he got ushered out of the Office over and over again. Eventually, shit gets out of hand, Gren calls Snow a bitch, and Bigby punches him.

"They get into a fight. Gren has the upper hand most of the time, but Wolf begins to turn and beats the everloving shit out of him. And when Gren was sitting down against a wall sobbing, his injured arm stretched on the table, I could see that he was thinking about…ripping the arm off. He didn't, thank God…" her voice trailed off.

Lyra's face darkened. "He _hurt_ Gren to the point he was crying? I could kill the bastard."

"This was a couple decades ago. It's not worth screwing with now. You could always talk to Gren about it."

Their food came at that point, and they dined, talking between mouthfuls of hamburger and fries.

"There was a serial killer? I had no idea." Lyra said, looking somewhat disappointed in herself for the lack of knowledge about Fabletown's last few decades.

"Yeah. It was a gigantic scheme. The Crooked Man, Jersey, even Bloody Mary was involved. I can't give out a ton of the details, or even be sure they're right considering that Crane and his workers tried to keep everything wrapped in red tape. I guess when you go let Crane know you're back…I mean, the Sheriff might be willing to fill you in on these last few years."

"Wolf doesn't have some secret vendetta against me, right?"

Holly shrugged. "He didn't know you that well, right? I mean, what could he possibly have against you?"

Lyra shrugged back. "Crane hates me for seemingly no reason. Who says Wolf can't feel the same way?"

They finished their food, Lyra picking up the tab. After the meal was officially paid for, she asked, "Is there anything super important I need to know before I head out? The day is packed for me."

"No," Holly replied, "except there's a couple things I want to ask you."

"Ask away."

"Are you…okay?"

Lyra appeared surprised by the statement. "Yeah, I'm fine? Are you asking if I'm stable? Because I'm not taking any medication so I can't guarantee that my mood will stay normal. Otherwise, I feel great."

"One last thing. I've missed your birthday for the last forever. Anything I can get you?"

"If you absolutely insist…I lost my copy of James Joyce's _Ulysses_ a long time ago when I left the asylum. That's it. But only get it if you have the means and you one-hundred percent feel like you must."

They enjoyed a long hug and happy tidings. Lyra left, got into her car, and headed to the bank. _Time to withdraw some cash_.

* * *

Holly watched the car as it drove away, feeling a sense of both happiness and apprehension. She knew all about Lyra's past, and could easily guess the reason Lyra had gone into hiding after being released from that goddamned institution. _Fucking Jack._ _That piece of scum should have never been born. All he's done is cause her pain, misery, shame, you name it._

_I just hope he's gone._

Deep down inside, though, she recognized that statement as untrue. He's still here, and he's still looking for her, and once he gets her, there's no guarantee she's getting away again.

_Lyra may be a little crazy, but he's an all-out psychopath._

She could only wait and hope that Lyra was finally safe.

* * *

Gren woke up, and almost immediately panicked that Lyra wasn't in the bed by his side. However, before the anxiety fully set in, he discovered her note. _Soul soldier, huh?_

He trusted her instincts. If she got herself into some deep shit, she could find a way out. Lyra had always been intelligent – some might even call her a genius. On the outside, most people couldn't tell, but once you got to know her, she displayed a level of intellect and comprehension of difficult topics that could stop anyone in their tracks.

Not to mention her reading material. She'd always excelled at English and Literature. She could analyze the fuck out of anything – it was one of her favorite pasttimes. Hell, one of her favorite books was _Ulysses_. _How fucked up is that?_ Gren thought to himself. _Well, that and Beowulf. _At this he grinned. How flattering to be involved in one of her favorite stories, although she sometimes teased him about his arm. He didn't mind – she never crossed the line.

He reheated the leftover pizza from last night and turned on the television. _Star Trek_ was on, and _The Original Series_ to boot. _Sure, why not. It's one of her favorite shows._

* * *

**As I said in the introduction, there are a couple things I wish to discuss. First off, I know I haven't been posting as frequently as usual. I've been quite busy recently – not only is my birthday tomorrow (at the time I'm writing this, anyway – by the time anyone sees this, it's probably June 14****th****), but I'm having two separate parties, so planning both is a LOT. Just so you guys know, this story hasn't been dropped – it's just that I'm busy. I wouldn't expect a new chapter for a few days, maybe even a week after I post this one. Hope you all understand!**

**Also, I have another Fanfiction idea. It's another TWAU. I'm thinking of an AU where Gren is the Sheriff. Still can't decide if I should just switch almost everyone's roles, or just Gren and Bigby. Just wanted to run the idea by any potential readers. Let me know what you think.**

**Finally, I just wanted to encourage reviews! GIVE ME ALL YOUR REVIEWS! **

**Thanks for checking out my story (if you're reading this) and please review and let me know how it is! Hope you have a marvelous day!**


	6. Scandals and Switchblades

**I am back with Chapter 6. Holy shit. Never thought I would keep up the Fanfiction this long.**

**All jokes aside, I'm just going to let you all dive right in to the chapter, as usual.**

* * *

Times like these forced him to think of what used to be. It had once been only him and Lyra against the world. Two lovebirds, entwined till death do them part – of course, it was not death that parted them; instead, it was a bad situation that turned into a twisted nightmare. _She looked so lovely the day I sent her away…_

Lyra. Always so beautiful. Even now, centuries later, she was still the most gorgeous person he had ever laid his eyes upon. Not only was she lovely, she was intelligent; a quick, logical, and systematic thinker with a gargantuan amount of information stored in her brain. When someone asked him to describe her, his response was, "She has the face of the most beautiful of women, and the mind of the most resolute of men," an allusion to the Sherlock Holmes short story "A Scandal in Bohemia." Of course, Lyra was substantially better than Irene Adler, at least, in his eyes.

Even though his respect and admiration for her was infinite, it still wouldn't prevent him from killing her. No, no, no – that was destined to be! Fate had woven its strings into her from birth and was slowly, softly plucking them like a harp, playing death's melody. He chuckled to himself as the image played in his head.

_Oh, my love, it's such a shame we could not get along. At least now you can rest in peace without the presence of that dreadful disorder._

Her soon-to-be death could only be blamed on the presence of her illness. It was her mental sickness that had caused him to toss her away. He had done that for not only his safety, but the entire world's safety! And to learn decades later of her eventual release – preposterous! If the professionals can't cure her, he could! Lyra was sick, very sick, and most certainly in her highest and lowest times she was a danger to herself and others. _Fucking doctors, ruining everything._

There were a few things he needed to do before he could murder her. First, he needed information. Where does she live, what places does she frequent, what is her daily schedule, and all that jazz. He was certain he could go to one of her enemies and find out everything. Hell, he was sure he could pay Crane enough to get everything he needed. That asshole was malleable, especially when money was involved. And if he doesn't take the money…_his will shall bend under my own preferred persuasion methods._

His next large problem was going to be difficult. Soon, her friends would find out that he was back in town, and they would alert Lyra to his presence. Secrecy was key. As soon as she heard even the slightest possible rumor from, say, Gren or Jersey, she would disappear again. It had taken him a long time to find her trail; she had been like Sherlock Holmes in "The Final Problem" – without the faking of her death, of course. She just wasn't kept away anymore, and she used his ignorance to her advantage.

A boiling rage washed over him in tidal waves, causing him to viciously punch the apartment wall, causing a large hole to appear. _I could kill right now. _He needed to get the anger out somehow, or else he would lose concentration, and the asset he needed the most right now was focus.

In an attempt to keep calm, he sat on the couch, and recalled his last murder.

_The metallic scent of blood filled his nostrils, making him squeal with delight. He could envision the entire mutilation process of the Fable's body. Flesh gave way under his knife, pulled and pushed by his skilled fingertips. Screams reached his eardrums and caused them to orgasm from the twisted pleasure._

A knock at his door caused the daydream to shatter and fall to his feet, littering the floor in memory shards. Before he could move, the creature knocked again, this time louder and with more urgency than before. He quickly stood up and answered it.

Standing outside the door was a three-foot toad, its face showing signs of discontent and general cynicism. The amphibian began to speak; the fact that it was British still surprised him, as he always thought that Brits were refined and eloquent, while this creature was not.

"What's with all the fuckin' racket, huh? The fuck you doing up here, you prick?"

Jack watched with an amused look on his face. He spoke no words, and this caused the animal to become angrier.

"Listen here, asshole, I'm not gonna have you destroyin' all my fuckin' property, you hear?"

* * *

Toad would call himself an observant man, but he as sure there was something off about this guy. Everything about him was dark – hair, eyes, clothing – and he gave off an aura of…Toad wasn't sure what to call it, but he knew it wasn't good. Not to mention the man's smile was creepy as fuck. After a few more moments of silence, Toad was ready to punch this asshole in the face. However, before he could do it, the man began to speak.

"Sir, I understand you don't like people damaging what belongs to you, but it's not a good idea to go around and be nasty." At this, he crouched down to Toad's height, causing the being to step back a little. The man's voice, although pleasant, was dark and had an underlying tone that caused internal alarms to ring. Without warning, the man pulled a switchblade out of his pocket.

"Do you see this?" the man said, "this is my little helper. He has hurt nasty people before, and would gladly _do it again_." Toad began to shake in his trousers.

"I will pay for any damages I cause, don't you worry, but call me a prick, asshole, douchebag, whatever – and my little helper will pay your internal organs a visit, and it has a reputation for entering without knocking. Do you understand?"

Toad nodded and quickly sprinted away, hearing the stranger call behind him, "Don't you dare tell anybody about this, or I will make sure you and any relatives will never again see the light of day!"

* * *

Smiling, he retreated into his apartment. _I still have the knack for inciting fear._ He began to sing.

_He'll wrap you in his arms,_

_tell you that you've been a good boy_

_He'll rekindle all the dreams_

_it took you a lifetime to destroy_

_He'll reach deep into the hole,_

_heal your shrinking soul,_

_but there won't be a single thing_

_that you can do_

_He's a god, he's a man,_

_he's a ghost, he's a guru_

_They're whispering his name_

_through this disappearing land_

_But hidden in his coat_

_is a red right hand._

* * *

**I'm sure you can all tell who the stranger is, but I'm not naming him yet!**

**Hope this chapter was okay – I know it's been a long time since I've posted, but I've been having some problems recently that affect my mood, energy levels and creativity. **

**I am unsure when the next chapter will come out – I aim to complete it this weekend and have it up Monday or Tuesday, but that's somewhat unrealistic, so…Thursday at the latest! I promise to not let you all down!**

**And as usual, review my story please please please! I beg for your reviews! Even if you say my story is the shittiest ever, I will be grateful and will try to make it better!**

**Thanks for reading and I hope you come back and read again!**


	7. A Prince and a Beanstalk

**Yay, chapter 7!**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Bigby and Snow stood outside the brick building, staring at the door with a sense of shock. Most relocated Fables had taken up residence in apartment complexes; Prince Pajari lived in an actual house. He even had window awnings, a rare commodity these days. Both came to the same conclusion: Bluebeard wasn't the only one to escape with wealth.

Many moments of silence passed between the two before Snow said, "Okay, we're going on the assumption that he doesn't know of Porziella's death. So, try to be gentle with him. I don't want this to be any harder than it has to be."

Bigby replied with a smile, "Don't worry, Snow, I have a sensitive side."

Her frown did not turn upside down, much to Bigby's dismay. "Well, you certainly don't show it often. Or at all."

_Why do I even try? _ He walked up to the door and knocked. Murmured noises came from the other side, and after a minute of scraping, Pajari came into view.

He was handsome, with robust, masculine features. Two chocolate brown eyes looked out of deep sockets; high cheekbones and a prominent nose, Holmesian* in its appearance, stood out from his face. Perfectly proportioned lips and a strong jaw completed his visage, all in all giving him the profile of a very attractive man.

In height he was a little over six feet tall, with a large frame covered in toned muscle – not too much, not too little. His hair was a dark brown, almost black, and he was clean-shaven. A large bulge towards the crotch area of the Prince's pants hinted towards a larger-than-average member; this could not be mistaken as arousal, for Bigby would have certainly noticed, and this fact, along with everything else, was enough for him to feel a twinge of jealousy. The whole picture was enough to make Snow stare, and Bigby duly noted that while the Prince was not in heat, she definitely was. He could practically taste her feminine musk. _God fucking damnit, of all the men in the world we had to come see, it's a hot one._

The figure greeted them, his voice smooth, dark, and hearty, "Good afternoon, my fellow citizens. I don't believe we've met before." He extended his hand towards Bigby. "I'm Prince Rodion Pajari, but I insist you call me Rod. It's less of a mouthful and not quite as Russian." He finished with a friendly smile.

Bigby reluctantly took his hand and shook it, attempting to replicate the sense of formality the Prince gave off. "I'm Sheriff Bigby Wolf, and this is my associate Ms. Snow White."

The Prince's eyebrows rose, and with a slightly shocked and embarrassed expression he turned to Snow. "I thought I recognized you, my lady. Forgive me for my ignorance." He took her hand and softly planted his lips upon it, making her blush. Bigby fought the urge to push him away.

"And furthermore, I recall you now, Sheriff, and I ask for your understanding – I'm sure it's not flattering for the Big Bad Wolf to go unrecognized." Rodion said, "I imagine you two are here for answers, and I am more than ready for your questions. Pray tell, what brings you to my abode?"

Bigby decided that being somewhat direct would get them away quicker. While this man was not bad – that was obvious from the start – he didn't like the fact Snow was "enjoying" this man's presence. "Sir…it's about your wife."

A look of sudden concern crossed Rod's face. "Please, come inside. Porziella has been missing for a week now, and to hear news on her whereabouts brings me great joy."

He ushered them into the house, and while he went to prepare tea, Snow and Bigby looked at each other knowing well that the future conversation would have a depressing effect on the Prince. It was clear that Pajari loved Porziella dearly, and for them to tell him of her death…both dreaded the next while they had to spend explaining the situation.

* * *

Lyra arrived at the Business Office, only to find a line – or rather, one person waiting to be allowed in. She recognized it as Jack, or as she called him affectionately, "Beanstalk." Unlike her asshole bastard husband, this Jack wasn't half bad, and she had always liked him.

"Hey, hey, hey, look who it is," Jack said with a grin crossing his mien, "it's good to see you back in town. Holy shit, man, what have you been up to?"

"Hiding. What about you, Beanstalk?"

"Same old, same old. How long have you been in town?"

"Only a day. Spent it with Gren and Holly."

A shit-eating grin crossed the friend's face. "And let me guess – most of Gren's time was in his bed?"

Lyra laughed, "Yeah. You know me."

He uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the wall, turning to face her. "You know, Gren was really worried about you. When we got to Centerdale and you weren't there, he was fucking ballistic! Threatened to shut the place down and murder all the staff. On top of that, we didn't hear from you for decades…God, I think that was part of the reason he drank so much. I mean, he drank a lot before, but with you missing, it was just…" he trailed off, as Lyra had begun to look guilty.

"I…didn't know you guys cared so much about me. I'm sorry if I worried you with my expression just then, but I'm honestly shocked. I understand that my…sickness distorts my perception of everyone else's feelings towards me, but I never knew-"

"Of course we care about you," he cried, raising his arms, "we're your friends. Remember when you and I used to rummage through Crane's apartment together during his 'massages?' God, those were fun times," he chuckled, then added, "especially that time I made love to you in his bed."

"That happened more than once, Beanstalk, and be honest here, it wasn't love making, it was straight up fucking."

"That's right; love making is what you and Gren do." He gibed.

Lyra shook her head, ready to defend herself, but Jack continued before she could make a sound. "Holly and I were always certain Gren loved you, even if he never admitted it. Not once has he ever cared so much about another person. I figured it was love."

"I don't make love, honey, I fuck. And I try not to think about his concern for me in that fashion. He's a sweet guy, and I would be willing to give it a shot, but I've already had one relationship go to shit, and I don't want to risk a second one."

The door opened, and they heard Crane's voice call for the next Fable to come in. Jack turned away, but before he went into the Office, he said, "Lyra, that's part of your problem. You don't take risks. Give it a try sometime, and who knows? Maybe you can have a happy ever after. Lord knows you deserve one."

That simple statement bothered Lyra so much that she abandoned her post and drove to The Cut Above, a butcher shop she knew Bloody Mary frequented. The two were old friends, and although Mary was a little on the crazy side, Lyra knew she would have good advice on this situation. Besides, it had been decades since the two talked; they had some catching up to do.

* * *

***When I describe his nose as Holmesian, I'm referring to no other Holmes than Sherlock. His nose was described by Doyle as thin and hawk-like. And while this doesn't "fit in" with the rest of his super masculine description, when you look at any adaptations of Holmes, his nose seems very strong. So, go with that.**

**Fun fact: The only Russian first name I could think of when writing Pajari's part was Rodion, due to the fact I *tried* to read Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky recently. The main character's name was Rodion Raskolnikov. **

**As usual, please review my story. I take both criticism and praise, and encourage the former! Thanks for reading and hope you come back again!**

**On a final note, I've gotten over 500 visits on this story, and that's a huge honor to me. Over 500 people looked at my story's description and said, "sounds interesting," and that's enough to make me flattered. So thanks to all who looked at the story!**


	8. UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE

**Brief Update:**

**For now, this story will not progress. I will be spending the next couple of weeks or so polishing the seven chapters I have completed, in an attempt to gather more readers. **

**Checking my viewer graph, I noticed that many the farther along I get with these chapters, the less people read – and I want to change that! Of course, I do not have many reviews to go on, so it's hard for me to figure out if I'm doing something wrong or not.**

** I am practically begging for any readers to leave reviews, especially involving criticism. Please, tell me what you think and ways I could improve my writing. I encourage for you to tell me what you think, because otherwise, I will not be able to write a better story. Are my characters in character? Is my grammar up-to-par? Does the story include a wide variety of words that, overall, make an impressive lexicon? Let me know, please!**

**On a side note, I wrote a second Fanfiction a couple weeks ago, before Episode 5 came out. It's called "Battery Acid", and features Mary and Jack (OC Jack, that is) in a battle, plus a surprise visit from somebody else. Check it out if you want. However, reviews are not really needed on that one (considering it's only one chapter) but if there is something wrong with it, tell me!**

**Finally, I'm going to end this update be saying that the final episode of The Wolf Among Us has caused some difficulty in this story's continuity, which is partly why I'm waiting to start chapter 8. SPOILER ALERTS FOLLOW:**

**Lyra is going to visit Bloody Mary in chapter 8, however, according to episode 5, Mary is dead. Also, Lyra is friends with Georgie/Vivian, and they're dead too. This sucks, to say the least. I'm debating keeping them alive (which would, theoretically, make this an AU), or keeping them dead and having Lyra find out. I'm so, so close to choosing the latter (who says I can't make stories in the past where everyone is still alive and possibly not ravaged by the Crooked Man?) simply because that would put Lyra on the path I intended her to be on in the first place. But give me some time, please and thank you.**

**That's it! Thanks for reading and again, leave reviews on the story and tell me your opinions!**


End file.
